third wheel, spinning, part ii
part i || part ii
third wheel, spinning
He doesn’t say yes.
He stares at you for a bit, smile frozen on his lips, eyes attempting to blink the confusion away. You realize after a moment he’s searching for an explanation, or some sort of clarification that might be scrawled in your expression. And suddenly a fit of rage bursts from your heart, because somehow you know that if Baekhyun were in your shoes would not have to repeat himself. And so you refuse to say another word, and you stare at him steadfastly until he’s forced to look away.
But he doesn’t say no either.
Staring down at the ground, expression blank, he says, stuttering slightly,
“I’ll….I’ll think about it.”
While his words leave the door open, you part ways with the weight of rejection in your heart. And it settles there like sediment throughout the day, festering as the hours pass, feelings growing until you feel physically like throwing up. You’re almost paralyzed by it, citing a stomachache to your mother as you climb the stairs and lock yourself into your room before dinner. And your heart feels so heavy when it beats, pushing the chill of gloom all the way to the tips of your dexterities until he texts you the next morning.
Let’s try it.
You suddenly feel the exhilaration of victory, and you jump gleefully in your bed, slightly high off the fact that you’re now officially dating the man of your dreams, as you try to shelve away the nagging fact that he didn’t give you a resounding yes.
You believe, hugging your phone to your chest, given this chance, you can change him. You can switch his sights from Baekhyun to you, and since you’ve gotten this head-start you will win the war you’ve created in your mind.
You make it your mission to make him fall for you.
○
When you meet at school the next day, and the next, there is little to no change. Whether that’s a relief is something you choose not to decide on.
Chanyeol’s somewhat more awkward around you now, hesitating more in his daily existence as he begins to poke and prod at the procedures of a relationship. What’s perhaps the most noticeable is that he moves stand by you now, in a fashion that makes it seem almost compulsorily, consciously shuffling his feet with effort to slouch by your side.
It’s novel, you realize, because he no longer hangs over Baekhyun.
You don’t hold hands until about the second week, when the two of you are alone and strolling down the halls. It’s you that seizes the opportunity, his hand dangling freely in the air, and so you grasp it with your own. Your hands mold perfectly together, you think happily as you slip your digits through his. A bit of joy zips down to your toes when you feel him reciprocate after an initial stiff second of shock, fingers relaxing and gently squeezing yours.
“Your hands are soft,” he murmured, eyes cast off somewhere over the distance.
“Is that a good thing?” you asked, tone teasing. You’re nervous for his response though, and your voice wavers at the end because of it.
He blinks once, twice, thrice, and breathes, “Yeah.”
You must have looked unassured, because he reassures you.
“It’s nice,” he looks off to the distance before he turns to you, thinning his lips into a quick smile. “It’s really nice.”
It’s good enough for now.
○
The thing is, while time fosters your expectations, things between the two of you never really get better.
While they never get worse either, “good enough” seems to be the thing that characterizes you relationship, and it’s demoralizing.
When you kiss for the first time, he closes his eyes, he holds you close, he leans in, he breathes with his nose, in fact he does everything he needs to do with an eerily perfect precision. He picks you up from school now-7:40 sharp in his ratty sedan-and patiently waits for you outside of your last class to go home. While he never organizes any dates, he dutifully attends the ones you set up.
Dating him seems “textbook,” you realize one day. Everything is mechanical, everything is minimal and you can tell (you can just tell), his heart’s not completely into it.
It’s not like he’s rude or condescending. But he’s not enthusiastic either, and you feel like you’ve been saddled with the entire weight of hauling your relationship forward. It gets tiring, and eventually getting a near-exclusive right to Chanyeol’s smiles can’t make up for it.
It doesn’t help that you catch him more than once staring at Baekhyun for a distance. He stops immediately whenever he notices your presence, wistfulness fading from his eyes as quickly as the murky obligation trickles in.
And so you can’t help but feel he approaches your relationship like a chore.
○
To make things harder, you find that you actually have very little in common.
Or perhaps, more accurately, this is when you accept the fact.
You share similar interests, but the thing is they were never your own. You learned enough to have a superficial understanding and so whatever you know about guitar, about hip hop and rock, about cooking, he knows ten times as much. Not that he seems mind that much, though he does do several double takes when you confess you don’t know who Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, or Duane Allman are. To make things worse, you find yourself zoning out as well as Chanyeol gives you the run down on the history of rock and roll.
And so talks become so vague that getting anything deeper than the first few typical enthusiastic lines of conversation becomes a quick-fire succession of questions and answers that’s not unlike a friendly session of yanking teeth.
“You at least know who Jimi Hendrix is though, right?” Chanyeol glances at you out of the corner of his eye as he speeds down the freeway.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your favorite song? I probably have it,” Chanyeol slips an audio jack into his phone.
“Favorite song?”
“Yeah.”
You think for a moment before you realize, “…I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have one?”
Well it’s more like you don’t know any, but, “Yeah. They’re all good.”
“Just name one then.”
“I’m not really in the mood for rock music right now,” You say. Though it’s slightly a lie since you’ve never genuinely enjoyed it.
“What do you want to listen then?”
“Hip-hop.”
“Anything specific?”
You think for a moment, trying to pull a name thrown on a forum you were perusing the other day, “Hopsin.”
“You like him?” Chanyeol scoffs. “He’s not original at all. And he’s hypocritical.”
Oh.
You open your mouth, racking your mind for something intelligent to contribute, “Oh.”
“Anything else?” Chanyeol is starting to look impatient.
You sneak a glance at his phone, “J..Jazzyfact.”
“Which song?”
You squint, “Always…”
“Oh, Always Awake?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Nice,” Chanyeol smiles. “Good choice. That’s the one that I got Baekhyun into Shimmy Twice with.”
Relief of the conversation’s end eclipses any pride you felt. You ignore the mention of Baekhyun, and the fact that you have no idea who Shimmy Twice is. At least the song has a beat you can follow, and you find yourself bobbing your head along to the bass line. You make a mental note to download the song when you get home.
But when you fire up your laptop later, you can’t manage remember the title or even the tune. So you never do.
○
Your relationship seems to be a foxtrot of distance, two steps forward and Chanyeol takes two steps back. Two steps back, and Chanyeol takes another two steps back.
When you first start dating, you begin a ritual where you call him each night, and for the first two weeks he goes along. They’re mostly long, two-hour monologues, but your conversations have largely been that way since the beginning and so nothing seems out of the ordinary.
But then Chanyeol starts inconsistently missing days, and what’s more, he stops picking up your calls. And eventually this habit bleeds over to texts and personal message and he takes anywhere from two hours to a day to get back to you. Of course he acts normally in person, but it bothers you that he can’t even dignify you a prompt response.
“It could just be his phone?” Baekhyun carefully suggests during study hall, spinning his pencil around his thumb.
Ironically, somehow Baekhyun becomes your de facto relationship guru. Surprising your relationship with him reverts back to your pre-homecoming one, and you find yourself bouncing all of your woes off his wall of his advice.
“It’s possible,” you flump over your book dejectedly.
“What are you texting him about?” Baekhyun accidently drops his pencil. “Sometimes he doesn’t answer my texts either when he determines they don’t need a response.”
“Hi,” You snort.
“Hello to you too, but what are you texting him about?”
“No I mean I text him just that, literally like ‘hi’.”
“…yeah, that’s probably why he’s not responding.”
“But,” You protest, suddenly sitting up straight. “Aren’t you supposed to reply back like, ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up?’ Especially if it’s your girlfriend?”
“No,” Baekhyun blinks blankly. “Not necessarily?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Well yeah, I would. But not everyone does.” Baekhyun gives you a look reserved for the insane. “Chanyeol especially won’t, since he’s kind of lazy.”
“Oh.”
“If it’s something important, he’ll get back to you pretty quickly.”
“Two days ago I asked him for Econ notes and he didn’t reply for another 12 hours and made up so bullshit reason like his phone fell into a pool.”
“Okay,” Baekhyun holds up a finger. “That one’s actually real.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the one who pushed him into the pool, that’s why,” Baekhyun looks to the side shiftily. “Party got a little wild and I didn’t realize his cell was in his pocket, please forgive me.”
Déjà vu is a bitch and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Suddenly you find it more strenuous to breathe as a wave of melancholy hits you square on the chest.
“I didn’t know you guys went to a pool party,” You say slowly, the inner corner of your brows drawing downwards.
“Oh he didn’t tell you?” Baekhyun looks genuinely surprised. “Well I guess it’s not really a big deal. It was for our math class, like post-project celebration at our teacher’s house. He probably-well actually not probably-he didn’t invite you because we weren’t allowed guests.”
You suddenly feel incredibly relieved and you flop back over your book.
“But seriously, he’ll respond if it’s important,” Baekhyun swings a hand over the back of his chair. “Here, I’ll prove it to you.”
Baekhyun snatches your phone and quickly types something.
“Hey,” You seize your phone back, quickly glancing at the damage Baekhyun’s done.
The four letters of “help” shine brightly in a text sent to Chanyeol.
“He’s not going to respond to this,” You scoff. “That’s so vague.”
“No, he will,” Baekhyun waves you off before typing something into his own phone. “Give him time, he’s in biology right now so the quickest he’ll be able to answer is in another 30 minutes. And here,” Baekhyun flashes you the screen of his phone. “I sent the same message so we can determine whether or not he sees it. He hasn’t disabled the read-function on imessages, so we’ll know for sure.”
And sure enough, 30 minutes later, your phone buzzes. You’re not sure why but your heart’s pounding as you quickly glance at the screen-you’ve been going out for two months now, and you really should be out of the schoolgirl-crush phase-and yet you’re giddy when you see the name.
Chanyeol
sorry just got out of class
what do you need help with?
Baekhyun grins at you, “told you. He only responds to direct requests.”
You smack him, happiness coursing through your veins, “What am I supposed to say now?”
“Say you need help with…math.”
“But he knows I just had my test today.”
“Oh, uh, then…ask to borrow his econ notes. Again.”
“I just looked at them this morning.”
“Then, uh, tell him ‘never mind.’”
“That’s lame.”
Baekhyun narrows his eyes jokingly, “You’re not helping me out here.”
“You’re the one who took the liberty of sending this distress text. You’re responsible for a good follow up.”
“True, but still doesn’t change the fact you’re still not being helpful.”
“Fine,” You say with a large sigh as you type nm into the box. “Happy?”
“So happy,” Baekhyun pulls his lips back into the widest mock-grin he can manage before pushing back his chair and getting up. He throws his phone on his book before he stretches. “I need to use the bathroom, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose. “TMI. Why would you tell me that?”
“It’s human nature~” Baekhyun sings a la Michael Jackson.
“You’re so strange,” You laugh, you’re now lulled into a strange sense of security. The thing about Baekhyun is that in one-on-one situations, he’s always effortlessly been able to make you feel confortable, and so you forget your feelings towards history and grin at him, “Thanks, by the way. You give the best advice.”
“I just understand you better than most people,” Baekhyun ruffles your hair.
“Even better than my own boyfriend,” You’re caught in euphoria so you say without thinking. “Man, we should have dated instead.”
And for the first time in a while you detect a fissure in his composure as he has a syncopated intake of breath and pauses before laughing blithely, “Maybe.”
You regret it instantly, but the thrill of getting Chanyeol to finally respond lulls you into a sense of invulnerability. You forget that Baekhyun, too, had sent a text until his phone buzzes loudly against his book.
With a slight thrill, you realize Chanyeol had texted you back first. And if that wasn’t progress, you figured, then you weren’t sure what was.
It buzzes two more times, distracting you from your work and planting a moral dilemma in your mind. You do have parameters on respecting the space of others, but curiosity sometimes gets the best of you. And high off your recent successes, you decide to take a peek at Baekhyun’s phone.
What you find doesn’t surprise you and puts an efficient damper on your mood.
Chanyeol
oh shit, sorry just saw this
wait help with what?
where are you? I can be there in a min or so.
Your fingers are trembling as Baekhyun’s phone buzzes again. The difference between the two of you. It’s so unfair.
Chanyeol
baekhyun?
You’re not sure how to feel at this point. Everything’s gone numb. But it’s so unfair.
Chanyeol
???
It’s so unfair.
And that’s when Chanyeol calls Baekhyun’s phone.
You really don’t know what to do when his phone starts vibrating hardcore, a selfie you’ve never seen of Chanyeol engulfing the entire screen. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Baekhyun appears at that moment, plucking his phone out of your hand.
“Sorry,” Baekhyun frowns at the phone, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t realize he’d take it this far. Did he already call you?”
You can only shake your head.
“Really-? Ah shoot, wait, ‘scuse me for a second, I should really take this, you know how he tends to overreact,” Baekhyun apologizes again as he moves to a corner.
Actually, no, you have no idea how he overreacts.
“Hey? …wait calm down, sorry haha, I didn’t actually need help,” Baekhyun laughs into the receiver.
Actually, now that you think about it, you don’t know a lot of things about Chanyeol.
“Why? Uh…wrong convo, I meant to send that to my mom. …you’re asking me what I needed help with? That’s confidential. Family issues. Let it go, bro.”
You don’t even know how to talk to him.
“Haha, Dude, that’s hella random. But honestly you don’t have to go to the Girls Generation concert, I know you don’t like them that much. Don’t push yourself, I was completely kidding. …You want to? Am I talking to Chanyeol?”
Ah.
“You’re starting to like them, seriously? I don’t believe you. Name a song that’s not Gee.”
So you silently gather all of your pens and carefully slide them into your pencil bag.
“All my love is for you? That’s random. …are you just looking at the Wikipedia page of the discography?”
You quietly shove your books into your backpack and zip it up with a flick of your wrist.
“I don’t believe you, sing a line from it. …I wouldn’t worry about that. Of course I’m going to record it.”
You grip the back of the chair and push it under your desk.
Baekhyun smiles so brightly you look away, “Wow you actually learned the song. …just for me?”
You shoulder your bag, glancing at Baekhyun for what feels like a last time of some era you haven’t defined.
”Okay,” Baekhyun laughs, loudly. “I really don’t believe you Chanyeol.”
The thing is you believe Chanyeol. And this time Baekhyun can’t convince you otherwise.
So you take your first step forward and let Chanyeol go.
○
This is how you find yourself a little less than three hours later staring up at Chanyeol at the edge of the student parking lot.
“So…” Chanyeol trails off, one foot forward as he points at his car. “Are we going to go…or…?”
You shake your head, hands balled into fists and trembling, unable to trust yourself with keeping your voice steady.
“Hey,” Chanyeol asks, tone instantly concerned. He puts a hesitant hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”
You shake your head. He’s always been a really nice guy, you realize. And that’s probably the sole reason you fell for him in the first place.
“What happened?” A bit of panic slips into his tone as he puts his second hand on your other shoulder. “Did someone do something to you?”
You shake your head. You’re not ready to let him go. A sliver of your composure buds at the corner of your eye and slips.
“If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you,” Chanyeol mutters slightly desperately, taking a finger gently and wiping your cheek. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
It’s not like you’re ready-you weren’t born ready for anything-but you guess that now is as good as later. The kids around you are beginning to mutter, you’ve never liked drawing the attention of public speculation. So, in front of the school, you kiss him on the cheek and whisper in his ear.
“I think we should break up.”
He looks stunned when let yourself fall back down on your heels. Under that snapback you bought him and his wayward bangs, his eyes are wide and his mouth is slack. Not a word leaves his lips, nor does his body language betray a direct response. Rather he blinks once, twice, eyes searching for some semblance of meaning scrawled in your expression, thrice.
Seconds hang and they weigh like hours. You grow uneasy as you wait for your inevitable rejection, starkly stuck in the spotlight you created, but Chanyeol doesn’t even have to mercy to spare you a quick death. You’re on the verge of snapping at him, an indignant “what’s your answer” primed for launch right at the tip of your tongue, when you notice his eyes flit from yours and linger on something over your shoulder.
You know what (who) he’s looking at before you even turn to glance, but it doesn’t quell the rage you feel when you see Baekhyun in the near distance, laughing as he emerges from the music room with a grinning Jongdae.
It’s the last straw, and the camel collapses on the ground, back snapped in two.
“Baekhyun’s a lucky guy,” you quip before you run off, long hair flowing behind you as you flee.
As you race down the halls, swallowing the muddy mixture of misery and pride, you hold a dim hope somewhere in you heart that he’ll try to follow you.
But he doesn’t give chase, and it’s the end of the second hour that you are crouched in the dank corner of the swimming pool deck, hidden and miserable, tears long since dried on the concrete, that you concede defeat.
Baekhyun passes you three times, shouting your name into the dusky spring air as he hustles around, searching for you. He calls your phone more than a few times and leaves a smattering of worried texts every ten minutes, or so.
But heartbreak makes it hard to care, and he leaves when the sun finally sinks beneath the horizon.
○
You avoid them for the next few weeks, taking a social vacation to a group of girlfriends you hadn’t properly hung out with in months. They welcome you back with open arms, cooing sympathetically as they listen to your recent love struggles. Distance, you find, helps speed healing. Pain and proximity are directly related, and you find it a little less than impossible to even look into his eyes.
You make the mistake of taking the shortcut between the gym and the math wing a month and a hafl later, barely turning the corner when you hear Chanyeol’s voice.
“Hey Baekhyun, there’s something I need to tell you,” Chanyeol’s voice floats easily, low and nervous.
You’ve never seen him look so serious before, hair styled up nicely, brows set in a solemn line, lips even straighter. His ears are tipped with a flushed pink, his hands are jammed in his pockets in the way he stows them when he’s nervous, and his eyes are wide with an earnest, yearning hope.
“Yeah?” Baekhyun says, tone teasing.
“I like y-you. “
It’s so simple, so inelegant, and so juvenile that it’s almost laughable. But what hurts is the brutal honesty in his words, the sincerity seeping out of his gaze, the rawness in his emotion, the fact that he’s so goddamn nervous that he’s hunched over, his voice is wavering and his hands are shaking. He’s never been this way around you, and that’s when you dimly realize this is what he looks like when he’s hopelessly in love.
It hurts, precisely, because it wasn’t with you.
Whether or not Baekhyun reciprocates is something you don’t stick around to find out, because you choose that moment to flee, running down the hall as fast as your legs can take you, hugging your books to your chest as the stinging in your chest explodes and begins to course heartbreak through your veins.
It’s something about the way Baekhyun was so easily able to burrow into Chanyeol’s heart that hurts, that even after seven years you were no more able then to make a dent.
It’s unfair, you think angrily into your sheets later that night, tears bleeding blotchy patterns into the fabric, because you fell first.
It’s unfair, because he’s happy.
It’s unfair, because you still love him.
It’s unfair, you think as you curl a fist into the blanket and as sleep sluggishly sucks you into a swamp of subconsciousness, because you don’t get the happy ending. You learn the hard way that day that love is a game of chance, and that you are a terrible gambler.
Time, you eventually find out, does mend all wounds.
For you, it will take four months.
○
You avoid them the next day, and the day after that. Eventually that turns into a week of dodging and that just as easily bleeds into a month. Chanyeol confronts you one day, just before you’re able to weasel out of journalism class, blocking your way and grabbing onto your shoulders.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says as he tightens his grip. “And as a friend, that make me concerned.”
Irritation blooms in your chest when you dare to look up at his face. He has the gull to have worry etched into his features, the crease in his brow and the downturn of the corner of his lips existing as physical proof.
The label of “friend” begins to eat at you as well. You begin to grow irrational as you wind your self up around semantics, bristling irritation enough that you begin to slightly shake. For you, the label of friend is just another unwelcome reminder of how little headway you’ve made since you first fell in love and how you will never be anything more than a pal. You don’t think logically at this moment, like how the sentence works best with that diction, or how this is Chanyeol’s clumsy way of extending out an olive branch of peace.
You don’t want to be friends right now, you admit, looking at the ground. Because, you say as your tone begins to grow angry, you’ve never seen him exclusively that way. Give you time, you ask of him, and during that time, please leave you alone.
He has nothing to say, and he lets you leave, his arm still outstretched and his jaw slack. You pass Baekhyun on the way out, nearly crashing into him in the hall. He calls out your name as you stride away, and manages to catch up to you just before you round the corner.
You really don’t want to see him right now though, and the way he’s able to smile makes you want to sock him right in the mouth. You ask him, somewhat rudely, what exactly he wants from you, and sadistically savor how his grin visibly falters.
“Just to say hi,” he says, dropping his hand as worry creases his brow. “Because I haven’t gotten to talk to you for a while.”
“So, hello,” you say stiffly and let awkward silence lapse over the conversation.
“Uh…how are you?” He asks, shuffling his feet.
You stare at him, with your eye-bags and your red eyes before letting him know with a tone laced with venom, “Good.”
He winces visibly. ‘’Uhm.”
“Anything else?” you say impatiently, tapping your foot against the ground in physical emphasis of your impatience.
“I-I’m sorry,” he begins to tell you, over and over. His tone gentle and genuine, but somehow it feels patronizing. And so your rage is stoked once again. “I feel terrible. I’m really sorry.”
He never specifies what exactly he’s sorry for. But somehow you know. And by the flicker of pity through the tilt in his brows, you know that he knows that you know. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he leaves you alone.
Eventually, you will forgive him, but not now, you think bitterly as you slam the door to your car.
○
There is no reason to impress Chanyeol anymore, and so you begin to focus that energy back on yourself. There aren’t a whole lot of things you’ve done that didn’t have Chanyeol in the equation, which is something you realize when you look around for things to occupy yourself.
You quit the guitar club and the cooking org you joined last month, since those weren’t things that actually held your interest in the first place.
And so you throw yourself into chorus, listening to the greats and singing until your throat bleeds. It feels good, belting out your feelings in a song, spinning your voice out of your lungs until you’re exhausted.
At the end of two months, you get so good that you beat out Baekhyun for the solo, which is the most gratifying thing you’ve done in a long time.
“Hey, congrats,” Baekhyun walks over with a thin smile. He doesn’t sound terribly enthusiastic, but you understand what he’s feeling and don’t hold it against him.
But doing things for yourself feels good, you think as you give him a sympathetic hug. It feels really good.
○
You eventually end up repairing your friendship, picking up the shreds torn apart by love and hastily patching them together at the gunpoint of their insistence.
Chanyeol has a way of worming into people hearts and staying there. And yours, still riddled with the bullet holes of longing, is certainly no exception. While his friendship never completely fills the void (you wanted more, so much more), he plants flowers there with his smile and honesty, pretty ones with petals almost big enough to cover the wounds below.
And it’s impossible to stay angry at Baekhyun, because he’s a guy who lives in a way where you’re inclined to feel that he only deserves the best. He genuinely cares about you, always dropping support when he passes by you in the halls. You know the combined effort to apologize to you is coming from him-Chanyeol is too dense for this kind of thing-and for that, you let your grudge go.
They stop you one day before you get to your car, pouncing and dragging you out to bubble tea more or less against your will. You’re disgruntled to say the least when they shove you into a booth, and they sit conspicuously across from you with two feet between them. But their collective efforts over the next two hours are effective against the icy lock of your pride, and you find it significantly easier to smile around them afterwards. You briefly entertain a curiosity of what’s between them, but you’ve never been that masochistic so you quickly squash the thought.
Baekhyun insists on paying for you, and only manages to do so after he wrestles the check away. But since you hate being indebted, you manage to slip a five and instructions to Chanyeol before you leave.
“Thank him again for me,” you say without a smile as you shove the bill in between his folded arms and his chest. You still can’t quite look him in the eyes, so you settle on the navy edge of his cardigan instead, dimly wondering about what magic Baekhyun used to get him into something that wasn’t hoodie.
“You know he won’t accept it,” Chanyeol tries to hand the money back.
It feels like you’re moving a mountain but you manage to pull your gaze to at least his nose, “I’m sure there’s a way if it’s you.”
He’s probably stunned when you turn to leave, but you don’t throw a look over your shoulder to check.
Of course the more you return to hanging out with them, the more obvious it becomes that there’s an undercurrent of something between them, just in the little things you catch, like Baekhyun casually wiping food off of the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth, or the way Chanyeol guides Baekhyun with a practiced nudge of his palm against the small of Baekhyun’s back, or even the way they look at each other in public, shamelessly emitting affection through a simple gaze.
But there’s nothing particularly overt about what they do, and it takes someone who knows what they’re looking for to pick out the subtleties. Unfortunately, you are one of those people, and each moment sends small pangs against your heart.
But fortunately, each one a little duller than the last.
○
You do end up getting a concrete confirmation about their relationship one day after school. You catch them strolling down the halls with his hand slung intimately around Baekhyun’s waist. The sting of the breakup has finally been muffled down to a background buzz in the past few weeks, and so you sigh and a small smile settles on your lips as you consciously keep the burn at bay.
Happy for them? Oh no, you exactly wouldn’t say you’re happy for them, because there’s that restrained resentment rusted at the ruts of your heart. You’ve never been much of a masochist, and for the first time you admit to yourself that thriving on vicarious bliss just doesn’t work for you.
But seeing that dopey smile sit on Chanyeol’s lips when he turns and looks down at Baekhyun puts your heart at ease, even if you still wish that the waist his hand’s wrapped around was yours. And seeing Baekhyun laugh like that, lithe fingers covering his lips as he settles his head into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck wasn’t a terrible thing either.
And in time, you will move on. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, like the blond guy who keeps sneaking glances at you during economics (what was his name again, Minseok? Xiumin?), or that junior in orchestra,Tao, or Yixing, was starting to look pretty fly, or maybe you’ll take Jongdae up on his lunch offer.
And hey, who knows, maybe you’re too good for any of them.
You feel lighter today, maybe because you haven’t coated your cheeks in foundation for the first time in a long while, or because you’ve gone a day in which you hadn’t felt the need to impress someone other than yourself. Maybe you’ll treat yourself to a hair cut today, a shoulder-length bob, or go to that rave with your girlfriends on the weekend and dance the night away.
Chanyeol closes his eyes and leans in, and before you witness anything, you turn on your heel and walk away in the other direction, heels clipping defiantly against the concrete, soon-to-be signature ponytail swinging proudly behind your head, back impeccably straight, and head held high.
Whether they notice you is something you never find out.
- f i n -
a sorta epilogue ||
in which you get a happy ending
a/n
There are a number of bucket list story styles I’ve wanted to try (second person pov, a het fic (sorta missed the mark), a romance from a third party’s perspective, and an actual love triangle). This is pretty much the result. I lost a lot of interest in it at like a crucial point (when it was almost done), so it's not everything i've dreamed of. But woo! finished!
The second-person writing style is completely inspired by how to get filthy rich in rising asia by mosmin hamid, which is on my shortlist of favorite books.
This is actually kinda self-reflective, because it's every shitty decision i've made when it comes to guys since i was born, smashed into 14k. It's helped a lot with analyzing how i approach people i'm interested in tbh, and i think that's a good thing.
Chanyeol turned out to be kinda an asshole in this story, but that wasn’t totally intentional. It’s supposed to be like how he never regarded the female character as anything more than a friend, and how that’s perfectly fine. And how the main kinda passed up a great opportunity with Baekhyun.
what the fuck ahha this turned out to be really long. #yolo did not anticipate.
third wheel, spinning
He doesn’t say yes.
He stares at you for a bit, smile frozen on his lips, eyes attempting to blink the confusion away. You realize after a moment he’s searching for an explanation, or some sort of clarification that might be scrawled in your expression. And suddenly a fit of rage bursts from your heart, because somehow you know that if Baekhyun were in your shoes would not have to repeat himself. And so you refuse to say another word, and you stare at him steadfastly until he’s forced to look away.
But he doesn’t say no either.
Staring down at the ground, expression blank, he says, stuttering slightly,
“I’ll….I’ll think about it.”
While his words leave the door open, you part ways with the weight of rejection in your heart. And it settles there like sediment throughout the day, festering as the hours pass, feelings growing until you feel physically like throwing up. You’re almost paralyzed by it, citing a stomachache to your mother as you climb the stairs and lock yourself into your room before dinner. And your heart feels so heavy when it beats, pushing the chill of gloom all the way to the tips of your dexterities until he texts you the next morning.
Let’s try it.
You suddenly feel the exhilaration of victory, and you jump gleefully in your bed, slightly high off the fact that you’re now officially dating the man of your dreams, as you try to shelve away the nagging fact that he didn’t give you a resounding yes.
You believe, hugging your phone to your chest, given this chance, you can change him. You can switch his sights from Baekhyun to you, and since you’ve gotten this head-start you will win the war you’ve created in your mind.
You make it your mission to make him fall for you.
○
When you meet at school the next day, and the next, there is little to no change. Whether that’s a relief is something you choose not to decide on.
Chanyeol’s somewhat more awkward around you now, hesitating more in his daily existence as he begins to poke and prod at the procedures of a relationship. What’s perhaps the most noticeable is that he moves stand by you now, in a fashion that makes it seem almost compulsorily, consciously shuffling his feet with effort to slouch by your side.
It’s novel, you realize, because he no longer hangs over Baekhyun.
You don’t hold hands until about the second week, when the two of you are alone and strolling down the halls. It’s you that seizes the opportunity, his hand dangling freely in the air, and so you grasp it with your own. Your hands mold perfectly together, you think happily as you slip your digits through his. A bit of joy zips down to your toes when you feel him reciprocate after an initial stiff second of shock, fingers relaxing and gently squeezing yours.
“Your hands are soft,” he murmured, eyes cast off somewhere over the distance.
“Is that a good thing?” you asked, tone teasing. You’re nervous for his response though, and your voice wavers at the end because of it.
He blinks once, twice, thrice, and breathes, “Yeah.”
You must have looked unassured, because he reassures you.
“It’s nice,” he looks off to the distance before he turns to you, thinning his lips into a quick smile. “It’s really nice.”
It’s good enough for now.
○
The thing is, while time fosters your expectations, things between the two of you never really get better.
While they never get worse either, “good enough” seems to be the thing that characterizes you relationship, and it’s demoralizing.
When you kiss for the first time, he closes his eyes, he holds you close, he leans in, he breathes with his nose, in fact he does everything he needs to do with an eerily perfect precision. He picks you up from school now-7:40 sharp in his ratty sedan-and patiently waits for you outside of your last class to go home. While he never organizes any dates, he dutifully attends the ones you set up.
Dating him seems “textbook,” you realize one day. Everything is mechanical, everything is minimal and you can tell (you can just tell), his heart’s not completely into it.
It’s not like he’s rude or condescending. But he’s not enthusiastic either, and you feel like you’ve been saddled with the entire weight of hauling your relationship forward. It gets tiring, and eventually getting a near-exclusive right to Chanyeol’s smiles can’t make up for it.
It doesn’t help that you catch him more than once staring at Baekhyun for a distance. He stops immediately whenever he notices your presence, wistfulness fading from his eyes as quickly as the murky obligation trickles in.
And so you can’t help but feel he approaches your relationship like a chore.
○
To make things harder, you find that you actually have very little in common.
Or perhaps, more accurately, this is when you accept the fact.
You share similar interests, but the thing is they were never your own. You learned enough to have a superficial understanding and so whatever you know about guitar, about hip hop and rock, about cooking, he knows ten times as much. Not that he seems mind that much, though he does do several double takes when you confess you don’t know who Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, or Duane Allman are. To make things worse, you find yourself zoning out as well as Chanyeol gives you the run down on the history of rock and roll.
And so talks become so vague that getting anything deeper than the first few typical enthusiastic lines of conversation becomes a quick-fire succession of questions and answers that’s not unlike a friendly session of yanking teeth.
“You at least know who Jimi Hendrix is though, right?” Chanyeol glances at you out of the corner of his eye as he speeds down the freeway.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your favorite song? I probably have it,” Chanyeol slips an audio jack into his phone.
“Favorite song?”
“Yeah.”
You think for a moment before you realize, “…I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have one?”
Well it’s more like you don’t know any, but, “Yeah. They’re all good.”
“Just name one then.”
“I’m not really in the mood for rock music right now,” You say. Though it’s slightly a lie since you’ve never genuinely enjoyed it.
“What do you want to listen then?”
“Hip-hop.”
“Anything specific?”
You think for a moment, trying to pull a name thrown on a forum you were perusing the other day, “Hopsin.”
“You like him?” Chanyeol scoffs. “He’s not original at all. And he’s hypocritical.”
Oh.
You open your mouth, racking your mind for something intelligent to contribute, “Oh.”
“Anything else?” Chanyeol is starting to look impatient.
You sneak a glance at his phone, “J..Jazzyfact.”
“Which song?”
You squint, “Always…”
“Oh, Always Awake?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Nice,” Chanyeol smiles. “Good choice. That’s the one that I got Baekhyun into Shimmy Twice with.”
Relief of the conversation’s end eclipses any pride you felt. You ignore the mention of Baekhyun, and the fact that you have no idea who Shimmy Twice is. At least the song has a beat you can follow, and you find yourself bobbing your head along to the bass line. You make a mental note to download the song when you get home.
But when you fire up your laptop later, you can’t manage remember the title or even the tune. So you never do.
○
Your relationship seems to be a foxtrot of distance, two steps forward and Chanyeol takes two steps back. Two steps back, and Chanyeol takes another two steps back.
When you first start dating, you begin a ritual where you call him each night, and for the first two weeks he goes along. They’re mostly long, two-hour monologues, but your conversations have largely been that way since the beginning and so nothing seems out of the ordinary.
But then Chanyeol starts inconsistently missing days, and what’s more, he stops picking up your calls. And eventually this habit bleeds over to texts and personal message and he takes anywhere from two hours to a day to get back to you. Of course he acts normally in person, but it bothers you that he can’t even dignify you a prompt response.
“It could just be his phone?” Baekhyun carefully suggests during study hall, spinning his pencil around his thumb.
Ironically, somehow Baekhyun becomes your de facto relationship guru. Surprising your relationship with him reverts back to your pre-homecoming one, and you find yourself bouncing all of your woes off his wall of his advice.
“It’s possible,” you flump over your book dejectedly.
“What are you texting him about?” Baekhyun accidently drops his pencil. “Sometimes he doesn’t answer my texts either when he determines they don’t need a response.”
“Hi,” You snort.
“Hello to you too, but what are you texting him about?”
“No I mean I text him just that, literally like ‘hi’.”
“…yeah, that’s probably why he’s not responding.”
“But,” You protest, suddenly sitting up straight. “Aren’t you supposed to reply back like, ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up?’ Especially if it’s your girlfriend?”
“No,” Baekhyun blinks blankly. “Not necessarily?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Well yeah, I would. But not everyone does.” Baekhyun gives you a look reserved for the insane. “Chanyeol especially won’t, since he’s kind of lazy.”
“Oh.”
“If it’s something important, he’ll get back to you pretty quickly.”
“Two days ago I asked him for Econ notes and he didn’t reply for another 12 hours and made up so bullshit reason like his phone fell into a pool.”
“Okay,” Baekhyun holds up a finger. “That one’s actually real.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the one who pushed him into the pool, that’s why,” Baekhyun looks to the side shiftily. “Party got a little wild and I didn’t realize his cell was in his pocket, please forgive me.”
Déjà vu is a bitch and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Suddenly you find it more strenuous to breathe as a wave of melancholy hits you square on the chest.
“I didn’t know you guys went to a pool party,” You say slowly, the inner corner of your brows drawing downwards.
“Oh he didn’t tell you?” Baekhyun looks genuinely surprised. “Well I guess it’s not really a big deal. It was for our math class, like post-project celebration at our teacher’s house. He probably-well actually not probably-he didn’t invite you because we weren’t allowed guests.”
You suddenly feel incredibly relieved and you flop back over your book.
“But seriously, he’ll respond if it’s important,” Baekhyun swings a hand over the back of his chair. “Here, I’ll prove it to you.”
Baekhyun snatches your phone and quickly types something.
“Hey,” You seize your phone back, quickly glancing at the damage Baekhyun’s done.
The four letters of “help” shine brightly in a text sent to Chanyeol.
“He’s not going to respond to this,” You scoff. “That’s so vague.”
“No, he will,” Baekhyun waves you off before typing something into his own phone. “Give him time, he’s in biology right now so the quickest he’ll be able to answer is in another 30 minutes. And here,” Baekhyun flashes you the screen of his phone. “I sent the same message so we can determine whether or not he sees it. He hasn’t disabled the read-function on imessages, so we’ll know for sure.”
And sure enough, 30 minutes later, your phone buzzes. You’re not sure why but your heart’s pounding as you quickly glance at the screen-you’ve been going out for two months now, and you really should be out of the schoolgirl-crush phase-and yet you’re giddy when you see the name.
Chanyeol
sorry just got out of class
what do you need help with?
Baekhyun grins at you, “told you. He only responds to direct requests.”
You smack him, happiness coursing through your veins, “What am I supposed to say now?”
“Say you need help with…math.”
“But he knows I just had my test today.”
“Oh, uh, then…ask to borrow his econ notes. Again.”
“I just looked at them this morning.”
“Then, uh, tell him ‘never mind.’”
“That’s lame.”
Baekhyun narrows his eyes jokingly, “You’re not helping me out here.”
“You’re the one who took the liberty of sending this distress text. You’re responsible for a good follow up.”
“True, but still doesn’t change the fact you’re still not being helpful.”
“Fine,” You say with a large sigh as you type nm into the box. “Happy?”
“So happy,” Baekhyun pulls his lips back into the widest mock-grin he can manage before pushing back his chair and getting up. He throws his phone on his book before he stretches. “I need to use the bathroom, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose. “TMI. Why would you tell me that?”
“It’s human nature~” Baekhyun sings a la Michael Jackson.
“You’re so strange,” You laugh, you’re now lulled into a strange sense of security. The thing about Baekhyun is that in one-on-one situations, he’s always effortlessly been able to make you feel confortable, and so you forget your feelings towards history and grin at him, “Thanks, by the way. You give the best advice.”
“I just understand you better than most people,” Baekhyun ruffles your hair.
“Even better than my own boyfriend,” You’re caught in euphoria so you say without thinking. “Man, we should have dated instead.”
And for the first time in a while you detect a fissure in his composure as he has a syncopated intake of breath and pauses before laughing blithely, “Maybe.”
You regret it instantly, but the thrill of getting Chanyeol to finally respond lulls you into a sense of invulnerability. You forget that Baekhyun, too, had sent a text until his phone buzzes loudly against his book.
With a slight thrill, you realize Chanyeol had texted you back first. And if that wasn’t progress, you figured, then you weren’t sure what was.
It buzzes two more times, distracting you from your work and planting a moral dilemma in your mind. You do have parameters on respecting the space of others, but curiosity sometimes gets the best of you. And high off your recent successes, you decide to take a peek at Baekhyun’s phone.
What you find doesn’t surprise you and puts an efficient damper on your mood.
Chanyeol
oh shit, sorry just saw this
wait help with what?
where are you? I can be there in a min or so.
Your fingers are trembling as Baekhyun’s phone buzzes again. The difference between the two of you. It’s so unfair.
Chanyeol
baekhyun?
You’re not sure how to feel at this point. Everything’s gone numb. But it’s so unfair.
Chanyeol
???
It’s so unfair.
And that’s when Chanyeol calls Baekhyun’s phone.
You really don’t know what to do when his phone starts vibrating hardcore, a selfie you’ve never seen of Chanyeol engulfing the entire screen. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Baekhyun appears at that moment, plucking his phone out of your hand.
“Sorry,” Baekhyun frowns at the phone, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t realize he’d take it this far. Did he already call you?”
You can only shake your head.
“Really-? Ah shoot, wait, ‘scuse me for a second, I should really take this, you know how he tends to overreact,” Baekhyun apologizes again as he moves to a corner.
Actually, no, you have no idea how he overreacts.
“Hey? …wait calm down, sorry haha, I didn’t actually need help,” Baekhyun laughs into the receiver.
Actually, now that you think about it, you don’t know a lot of things about Chanyeol.
“Why? Uh…wrong convo, I meant to send that to my mom. …you’re asking me what I needed help with? That’s confidential. Family issues. Let it go, bro.”
You don’t even know how to talk to him.
“Haha, Dude, that’s hella random. But honestly you don’t have to go to the Girls Generation concert, I know you don’t like them that much. Don’t push yourself, I was completely kidding. …You want to? Am I talking to Chanyeol?”
Ah.
“You’re starting to like them, seriously? I don’t believe you. Name a song that’s not Gee.”
So you silently gather all of your pens and carefully slide them into your pencil bag.
“All my love is for you? That’s random. …are you just looking at the Wikipedia page of the discography?”
You quietly shove your books into your backpack and zip it up with a flick of your wrist.
“I don’t believe you, sing a line from it. …I wouldn’t worry about that. Of course I’m going to record it.”
You grip the back of the chair and push it under your desk.
Baekhyun smiles so brightly you look away, “Wow you actually learned the song. …just for me?”
You shoulder your bag, glancing at Baekhyun for what feels like a last time of some era you haven’t defined.
”Okay,” Baekhyun laughs, loudly. “I really don’t believe you Chanyeol.”
The thing is you believe Chanyeol. And this time Baekhyun can’t convince you otherwise.
So you take your first step forward and let Chanyeol go.
○
This is how you find yourself a little less than three hours later staring up at Chanyeol at the edge of the student parking lot.
“So…” Chanyeol trails off, one foot forward as he points at his car. “Are we going to go…or…?”
You shake your head, hands balled into fists and trembling, unable to trust yourself with keeping your voice steady.
“Hey,” Chanyeol asks, tone instantly concerned. He puts a hesitant hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”
You shake your head. He’s always been a really nice guy, you realize. And that’s probably the sole reason you fell for him in the first place.
“What happened?” A bit of panic slips into his tone as he puts his second hand on your other shoulder. “Did someone do something to you?”
You shake your head. You’re not ready to let him go. A sliver of your composure buds at the corner of your eye and slips.
“If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you,” Chanyeol mutters slightly desperately, taking a finger gently and wiping your cheek. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
It’s not like you’re ready-you weren’t born ready for anything-but you guess that now is as good as later. The kids around you are beginning to mutter, you’ve never liked drawing the attention of public speculation. So, in front of the school, you kiss him on the cheek and whisper in his ear.
“I think we should break up.”
He looks stunned when let yourself fall back down on your heels. Under that snapback you bought him and his wayward bangs, his eyes are wide and his mouth is slack. Not a word leaves his lips, nor does his body language betray a direct response. Rather he blinks once, twice, eyes searching for some semblance of meaning scrawled in your expression, thrice.
Seconds hang and they weigh like hours. You grow uneasy as you wait for your inevitable rejection, starkly stuck in the spotlight you created, but Chanyeol doesn’t even have to mercy to spare you a quick death. You’re on the verge of snapping at him, an indignant “what’s your answer” primed for launch right at the tip of your tongue, when you notice his eyes flit from yours and linger on something over your shoulder.
You know what (who) he’s looking at before you even turn to glance, but it doesn’t quell the rage you feel when you see Baekhyun in the near distance, laughing as he emerges from the music room with a grinning Jongdae.
It’s the last straw, and the camel collapses on the ground, back snapped in two.
“Baekhyun’s a lucky guy,” you quip before you run off, long hair flowing behind you as you flee.
As you race down the halls, swallowing the muddy mixture of misery and pride, you hold a dim hope somewhere in you heart that he’ll try to follow you.
But he doesn’t give chase, and it’s the end of the second hour that you are crouched in the dank corner of the swimming pool deck, hidden and miserable, tears long since dried on the concrete, that you concede defeat.
Baekhyun passes you three times, shouting your name into the dusky spring air as he hustles around, searching for you. He calls your phone more than a few times and leaves a smattering of worried texts every ten minutes, or so.
But heartbreak makes it hard to care, and he leaves when the sun finally sinks beneath the horizon.
○
You avoid them for the next few weeks, taking a social vacation to a group of girlfriends you hadn’t properly hung out with in months. They welcome you back with open arms, cooing sympathetically as they listen to your recent love struggles. Distance, you find, helps speed healing. Pain and proximity are directly related, and you find it a little less than impossible to even look into his eyes.
You make the mistake of taking the shortcut between the gym and the math wing a month and a hafl later, barely turning the corner when you hear Chanyeol’s voice.
“Hey Baekhyun, there’s something I need to tell you,” Chanyeol’s voice floats easily, low and nervous.
You’ve never seen him look so serious before, hair styled up nicely, brows set in a solemn line, lips even straighter. His ears are tipped with a flushed pink, his hands are jammed in his pockets in the way he stows them when he’s nervous, and his eyes are wide with an earnest, yearning hope.
“Yeah?” Baekhyun says, tone teasing.
“I like y-you. “
It’s so simple, so inelegant, and so juvenile that it’s almost laughable. But what hurts is the brutal honesty in his words, the sincerity seeping out of his gaze, the rawness in his emotion, the fact that he’s so goddamn nervous that he’s hunched over, his voice is wavering and his hands are shaking. He’s never been this way around you, and that’s when you dimly realize this is what he looks like when he’s hopelessly in love.
It hurts, precisely, because it wasn’t with you.
Whether or not Baekhyun reciprocates is something you don’t stick around to find out, because you choose that moment to flee, running down the hall as fast as your legs can take you, hugging your books to your chest as the stinging in your chest explodes and begins to course heartbreak through your veins.
It’s something about the way Baekhyun was so easily able to burrow into Chanyeol’s heart that hurts, that even after seven years you were no more able then to make a dent.
It’s unfair, you think angrily into your sheets later that night, tears bleeding blotchy patterns into the fabric, because you fell first.
It’s unfair, because he’s happy.
It’s unfair, because you still love him.
It’s unfair, you think as you curl a fist into the blanket and as sleep sluggishly sucks you into a swamp of subconsciousness, because you don’t get the happy ending. You learn the hard way that day that love is a game of chance, and that you are a terrible gambler.
Time, you eventually find out, does mend all wounds.
For you, it will take four months.
○
You avoid them the next day, and the day after that. Eventually that turns into a week of dodging and that just as easily bleeds into a month. Chanyeol confronts you one day, just before you’re able to weasel out of journalism class, blocking your way and grabbing onto your shoulders.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says as he tightens his grip. “And as a friend, that make me concerned.”
Irritation blooms in your chest when you dare to look up at his face. He has the gull to have worry etched into his features, the crease in his brow and the downturn of the corner of his lips existing as physical proof.
The label of “friend” begins to eat at you as well. You begin to grow irrational as you wind your self up around semantics, bristling irritation enough that you begin to slightly shake. For you, the label of friend is just another unwelcome reminder of how little headway you’ve made since you first fell in love and how you will never be anything more than a pal. You don’t think logically at this moment, like how the sentence works best with that diction, or how this is Chanyeol’s clumsy way of extending out an olive branch of peace.
You don’t want to be friends right now, you admit, looking at the ground. Because, you say as your tone begins to grow angry, you’ve never seen him exclusively that way. Give you time, you ask of him, and during that time, please leave you alone.
He has nothing to say, and he lets you leave, his arm still outstretched and his jaw slack. You pass Baekhyun on the way out, nearly crashing into him in the hall. He calls out your name as you stride away, and manages to catch up to you just before you round the corner.
You really don’t want to see him right now though, and the way he’s able to smile makes you want to sock him right in the mouth. You ask him, somewhat rudely, what exactly he wants from you, and sadistically savor how his grin visibly falters.
“Just to say hi,” he says, dropping his hand as worry creases his brow. “Because I haven’t gotten to talk to you for a while.”
“So, hello,” you say stiffly and let awkward silence lapse over the conversation.
“Uh…how are you?” He asks, shuffling his feet.
You stare at him, with your eye-bags and your red eyes before letting him know with a tone laced with venom, “Good.”
He winces visibly. ‘’Uhm.”
“Anything else?” you say impatiently, tapping your foot against the ground in physical emphasis of your impatience.
“I-I’m sorry,” he begins to tell you, over and over. His tone gentle and genuine, but somehow it feels patronizing. And so your rage is stoked once again. “I feel terrible. I’m really sorry.”
He never specifies what exactly he’s sorry for. But somehow you know. And by the flicker of pity through the tilt in his brows, you know that he knows that you know. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he leaves you alone.
Eventually, you will forgive him, but not now, you think bitterly as you slam the door to your car.
○
There is no reason to impress Chanyeol anymore, and so you begin to focus that energy back on yourself. There aren’t a whole lot of things you’ve done that didn’t have Chanyeol in the equation, which is something you realize when you look around for things to occupy yourself.
You quit the guitar club and the cooking org you joined last month, since those weren’t things that actually held your interest in the first place.
And so you throw yourself into chorus, listening to the greats and singing until your throat bleeds. It feels good, belting out your feelings in a song, spinning your voice out of your lungs until you’re exhausted.
At the end of two months, you get so good that you beat out Baekhyun for the solo, which is the most gratifying thing you’ve done in a long time.
“Hey, congrats,” Baekhyun walks over with a thin smile. He doesn’t sound terribly enthusiastic, but you understand what he’s feeling and don’t hold it against him.
But doing things for yourself feels good, you think as you give him a sympathetic hug. It feels really good.
○
You eventually end up repairing your friendship, picking up the shreds torn apart by love and hastily patching them together at the gunpoint of their insistence.
Chanyeol has a way of worming into people hearts and staying there. And yours, still riddled with the bullet holes of longing, is certainly no exception. While his friendship never completely fills the void (you wanted more, so much more), he plants flowers there with his smile and honesty, pretty ones with petals almost big enough to cover the wounds below.
And it’s impossible to stay angry at Baekhyun, because he’s a guy who lives in a way where you’re inclined to feel that he only deserves the best. He genuinely cares about you, always dropping support when he passes by you in the halls. You know the combined effort to apologize to you is coming from him-Chanyeol is too dense for this kind of thing-and for that, you let your grudge go.
They stop you one day before you get to your car, pouncing and dragging you out to bubble tea more or less against your will. You’re disgruntled to say the least when they shove you into a booth, and they sit conspicuously across from you with two feet between them. But their collective efforts over the next two hours are effective against the icy lock of your pride, and you find it significantly easier to smile around them afterwards. You briefly entertain a curiosity of what’s between them, but you’ve never been that masochistic so you quickly squash the thought.
Baekhyun insists on paying for you, and only manages to do so after he wrestles the check away. But since you hate being indebted, you manage to slip a five and instructions to Chanyeol before you leave.
“Thank him again for me,” you say without a smile as you shove the bill in between his folded arms and his chest. You still can’t quite look him in the eyes, so you settle on the navy edge of his cardigan instead, dimly wondering about what magic Baekhyun used to get him into something that wasn’t hoodie.
“You know he won’t accept it,” Chanyeol tries to hand the money back.
It feels like you’re moving a mountain but you manage to pull your gaze to at least his nose, “I’m sure there’s a way if it’s you.”
He’s probably stunned when you turn to leave, but you don’t throw a look over your shoulder to check.
Of course the more you return to hanging out with them, the more obvious it becomes that there’s an undercurrent of something between them, just in the little things you catch, like Baekhyun casually wiping food off of the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth, or the way Chanyeol guides Baekhyun with a practiced nudge of his palm against the small of Baekhyun’s back, or even the way they look at each other in public, shamelessly emitting affection through a simple gaze.
But there’s nothing particularly overt about what they do, and it takes someone who knows what they’re looking for to pick out the subtleties. Unfortunately, you are one of those people, and each moment sends small pangs against your heart.
But fortunately, each one a little duller than the last.
○
You do end up getting a concrete confirmation about their relationship one day after school. You catch them strolling down the halls with his hand slung intimately around Baekhyun’s waist. The sting of the breakup has finally been muffled down to a background buzz in the past few weeks, and so you sigh and a small smile settles on your lips as you consciously keep the burn at bay.
Happy for them? Oh no, you exactly wouldn’t say you’re happy for them, because there’s that restrained resentment rusted at the ruts of your heart. You’ve never been much of a masochist, and for the first time you admit to yourself that thriving on vicarious bliss just doesn’t work for you.
But seeing that dopey smile sit on Chanyeol’s lips when he turns and looks down at Baekhyun puts your heart at ease, even if you still wish that the waist his hand’s wrapped around was yours. And seeing Baekhyun laugh like that, lithe fingers covering his lips as he settles his head into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck wasn’t a terrible thing either.
And in time, you will move on. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, like the blond guy who keeps sneaking glances at you during economics (what was his name again, Minseok? Xiumin?), or that junior in orchestra,Tao, or Yixing, was starting to look pretty fly, or maybe you’ll take Jongdae up on his lunch offer.
And hey, who knows, maybe you’re too good for any of them.
You feel lighter today, maybe because you haven’t coated your cheeks in foundation for the first time in a long while, or because you’ve gone a day in which you hadn’t felt the need to impress someone other than yourself. Maybe you’ll treat yourself to a hair cut today, a shoulder-length bob, or go to that rave with your girlfriends on the weekend and dance the night away.
Chanyeol closes his eyes and leans in, and before you witness anything, you turn on your heel and walk away in the other direction, heels clipping defiantly against the concrete, soon-to-be signature ponytail swinging proudly behind your head, back impeccably straight, and head held high.
Whether they notice you is something you never find out.
- f i n -
a sorta epilogue ||
in which you get a happy ending
a/n
There are a number of bucket list story styles I’ve wanted to try (second person pov, a het fic (sorta missed the mark), a romance from a third party’s perspective, and an actual love triangle). This is pretty much the result. I lost a lot of interest in it at like a crucial point (when it was almost done), so it's not everything i've dreamed of. But woo! finished!
The second-person writing style is completely inspired by how to get filthy rich in rising asia by mosmin hamid, which is on my shortlist of favorite books.
This is actually kinda self-reflective, because it's every shitty decision i've made when it comes to guys since i was born, smashed into 14k. It's helped a lot with analyzing how i approach people i'm interested in tbh, and i think that's a good thing.
Chanyeol turned out to be kinda an asshole in this story, but that wasn’t totally intentional. It’s supposed to be like how he never regarded the female character as anything more than a friend, and how that’s perfectly fine. And how the main kinda passed up a great opportunity with Baekhyun.
what the fuck ahha this turned out to be really long. #yolo did not anticipate.